


A Tinier Little Thing

by YouDontKnowWhoItIs



Series: A Tinier Little Thing [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Body Modification, Emotional Manipulation, Humiliation, M/M, Manipulation, Penis Size, Small Penis, Verbal Humiliation, Watersports
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-05
Updated: 2020-05-06
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:09:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24029410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YouDontKnowWhoItIs/pseuds/YouDontKnowWhoItIs
Summary: “So- I might have cast a spell to make my dick bigger and I must have messed up somewhere because now my dick is so small and I’m afraid it’s permanent and I can’t even piss now without passing out and-“ he stops abruptly when Deaton raises his hand again, obviously processing the information in front of him. It’s a lot to take in, a lot to say, a lot to deal with, but Deaton still has the same clinical look on his face – not one of judgement and another ball of tension leaves his body.“Get on the table.”
Relationships: Alan Deaton/Stiles Stilinski
Series: A Tinier Little Thing [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1733410
Comments: 3
Kudos: 124





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Udunie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Udunie/gifts).
  * Inspired by [A Tiny Little Thing](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4342835) by [Udunie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Udunie/pseuds/Udunie). 



> This fic was inspired by "A Tiny Little Thing" by Udunie  
> I recently found her fics and am in love! There's definitely more to come but I want to follow the format of a part I - Part II then expand with a Part III - with some more characters (Peter and Jackson).
> 
> Also don't judge me on this fic, I literally wrote it today so it's unbeta'd and not to worked over. I plan to go back and expand on different aspects but this is just the bare bones. Hope you enjoy.

Stiles was fifteen when he realized he was _smaller_ than the other boys.

It-it wasn’t something he had ever taken notice of before; he hadn’t even understood he was different until after gym class.

He was talking with Scott – a new version of Halo was just being released and he was excited to leave school just a little bit earlier to beat the line.

He hadn’t noticed Jackson sneaking behind him, until his pants and underwear were around his ankle. The silence, the horrifying bone cracking silence lasted for all a minute before Jackson roared with laughter, the volume of it rattling his ear. He grabbed his shoulders firmly before turning him to face the rest in the locker room and soon the whole room erupted in laughter.

_Where is it?_

_Are you serious Stilinski?_

_I didn’t know they could get that small?_

_So, Stiles the freak has a baby dick, uh?_

_I can’t even see it?_

_Might as well cut it off?_

Stiles stood mortified in the center of their ridicule, tears fat and fast rolling down his face – even Scott, his friend of fifteen years stared down, his eyes widening in disbelief at the sheer lack of size.

He doesn’t remember much after that, just the weird tangle of his fumbling legs, hastily pulling up his pants and running out of the school like the devil was hot on his heels – Halo all but forgotten in his haste. The humiliation of it all still raw on his tongue.

X

By the time he’s a senior in High School the incident is behind him. Between werewolves, Kanima’s, hunters, Alpha packs, and other mystic shit there’s no real time to worry about how small his cock is – he’s got more pressing matters to attend to.

It isn’t until things slow down and he throws a ring of mountain ash and the words “You’re a wizard Stiles,” all but tumbles out Deaton’s mouth – okay he didn’t say it like _that_ but he might as well have – that he starts thinking about spells. Spells and potions and wands and a fucking way out of his biggest insecurity.

The idea of course happens when he’s jerking off, his dick fully engulfed in the swell of his hands. He’s hard of course, it doesn’t take much to get him off, apparently the smaller the size the more sensitive you are. His dick had never fully grown past his youth, he was about three inches flaccid and 4 inches hard, a fact that took months for him to admit. He was in the throws of it when a slight thought started niggling at the back of his mind – that maybe there was a spell, that there had to be a spell that could make someone _bigger._ He came soon after that.

X

Afterwards Stiles spent nights searching, reading, and stealing (sorry Deaton you’ll get these backs) trying to find any clue or inkling of a spell that could make his dick grow. He was on his fifth day when he found a spell – in one of the very many books he had snagged from Deaton’s back office. The incantation was simple enough, there was no potion or herbs needed. Just a small dick and a little bit of magic.

He reads everything though, just to make sure he doesn’t miss anything. It will take 6 hours for the spell to come to completion, it’s not permanent though and Stiles skims the book for a reversing spell (just in case his dick gets to big) he finds nothing but crumpled and ripped pages in the back. Something nags at him, but he ignores it, the book said it’s not permanent and if anything were to go wrong Deaton should obviously know the answer, it is his book after all.

He does the incantation first thing after dinner, he feels stupid, standing in the bathroom hands around his cock and balls – the incantation falling from him lips six times, just as the book instructed. He feels a slight swoosh in the air around him and a tingle down the base of his flaccid cock.

He stares at it a little bit, hoping to see a twitch or something to note that spell worked.

Eventually he hobbles back to bed, throwing on his boxers and trying not to let the disappointment roll off him in waves. There were still six hours left.

X

It feels like the Christmas when he wakes up the next morning as he bounds to the bathroom. He wants to _see_ it first, admire his new cock before hiding it away behind his jeans. He stands in front of the full-length mirror, hastily pulls his pants down and gasp.

Its-it’s gone.

His cock, although small but still noticeable was completely gone. Left in its place was a nub, no bigger than a thumbnail attached to where his dick used to be. His balls flat against him, creating small mounds the flanked either side of his penis.

He saw the panic before he felt it. Saw his hands grip his hair, his chest heave, and the tears skirt around the corner of his eyes.

_This couldn’t be happening._

X

He holds out for two days, trying to see if this spell was only temporary. He refuses touch it, keeping what was left of his dick flaccid and untouched, he couldn’t even look at it without feeling emasculated. He could’ve held out longer, if the urge to pee wasn’t slowly overriding his every thought and action.

When he tried that first morning, after making the decision to sit down – the pain and pleasure had been almost unbearable, something he had never experienced before. He managed to finish without passing out and made the pact to not go again until he was back to normal.

But that hadn’t happened. Nothing reverted to the way it was, and his bladder was sloshing around with so much piss.

He waits until midnight to make the drive down to Deaton’s office, knowing that the vet is still there – he’s always there, hell at this point Stiles would make the guess that he practically lived there.

It doesn’t take much to get in, there’s a side door near the basement that only the pack knows about, one that they can use for very such situations.

X

Deaton is sitting at his desk when he gets in, he’s barely acknowledged besides the flicker of his gaze – his face as always unreadable.

“He-“he starts before Deaton puts up a hand to stop him.

“I’m working Stiles,” he drones out pointing to the metal chair in the corner, normally he’d have a comment sitting on his tongue – he’ll be damned if someone tells him to sit in a corner and shut up, but closes his job with an audible click. Now was not the time to get into a petty argument.

He needed Deaton, more than ever before – he just needed to get back to normal.

He sits in the chair as quietly as possible and waits.

And waits

And waits

And waits.

It’s nearing the end of the second hour when Deaton finally makes the move to stand from his desk, back cracking as he stretches, and Stiles tries to bite back an angry retort. He’s irritated, exhausted and fucking scared – scared that he’ll be stuck like this forever.

“Stiles,” Deaton hums out, walking over to his corner, “what brings you here at,” he pauses to look at the clock, “2 in the morning.”

And all of a sudden, it’s like he’s re-energized because he has to _tell_ someone, like open up his mouth and say “help me my dick is the size of a grape.” The words get stuck in his throat and there’s no doubt a flush rising from his neck to his cheeks.

“Stiles,” Deaton prods again with the same clinical voice and face and surprisingly that eases the tension within him a little bit. Deaton is a doctor, a magic doctor at that, wouldn’t laugh in his face like the others had all those years ago.

“So,” he starts, looking anywhere but at the man, “I’m not sure if you noticed a couple of books going missing-“

“You mean _all_ my books,” Deaton corrects and flushes again – so maybe he wasn’t as subtle as he thought.

“Right” he stutters out, clearing his throat, “Well I was looking for a spell-“ and the sigh that Deaton emits is long and suffering but he powers through, “And I was able to cast it, but it-it kind of had the opposite effect.”

There’s a pregnant pause before Deaton rubs his temple aggravation coming off him in waves. “What did you do?”

“Well before we start, I just want to say I’ve been punished enough,” he starts avoiding the question.

“Stiles-“

“And-and that this would have happened to any normal teenage boy with magic. I mean I’m basically Harry Potter on steroids, who wouldn’t want to try out new things, cast a spell here or there,” he babbles out

“Stiles,” Deaton tries again.

“And honestly, we should be blaming the guy who even trusted me with these powers, I mean it’s me your lovable spaz it was only a matter of time before something like this happened-“

“Stiles” Deaton interrupts again voice hard and Stiles feels all the bravado leave him.

“So- I might have cast a spell to make my dick bigger and I must have messed up somewhere because now my dick is so small and I’m afraid it’s permanent and I can’t even piss now without passing out and-“ he stops abruptly when Deaton raises his hand again, obviously processing the information in front of him. It’s a lot to take in, a lot to say, a lot to deal with, but Deaton still has the same clinical look on his face – not one of judgement and another ball of tension leaves his body.

“Get on the table.”

X

Glee wasn’t an emotion that Deaton felt often, most if not everything he encountered was dreadfully predictable and awfully boring. Even on the times when Deaton wanted to scratch that dark itch within him none of the twinks with their “acclaimed” small cocks never did the job. Their cocks simply just weren’t small enough, but this.

This nub that was now buried within Stiles pubic hair, no bigger than the nail on his thumb, was perfect. It was everything he wanted and more. He pulled out a pair of razors and cream, one that he usually reserved to clean his animals – but they would do.

He spread the cream into the pubic, making sure everything was slick and wet before slowly shaving Stiles. His reaction was immediate, he jerked back, perching himself on his elbows and stared at Deaton with wide eyes.

“W-what the fuck are you doing,” he stuttered out and Deaton silently clicked his tongue, if everything went as planned, he would have to fix that mouth on him as well.

“I’m shaving you,” He said simply, sitting back – knowing that Stiles wouldn’t let him touch again until he understood the logic of his actions.

“W-why,” and Deaton cocked his eyebrow at the question, noticing the red flush on the boy’s neck.

“I can’t see your penis Stiles,” his reaction was small but there and Deaton homed in on the sign, “I can’t examine something I can’t see-now,” he hummed out thoughtfully turning towards his table of tools. “I could always get my magnifying glass it-“

“No,” Stiles shouted, humiliation leaking from his pores, “I-i-its not that small – you can continue,” and Deaton let out a smile with full teeth when Stiles laid back down eyes glued to the ceiling.

He continued his ministrations, making sure to brush his knuckles against Stiles tiny cock. He pretended not to notice Stiles reaction to his touch, how his breath would hitch, his toes would curl, and how his nipples were getting hard.

Once he was done, he admired his work. It was truly a sit to behold – his balls, or what was left of them laid flat against the mound between his legs- resembling the lips of a women’s ripe cunt, and his cock jutted out from the middle, resembling a rather large swollen clit. He could barely stop himself from licking his lips.

“Hmm,” he murmured out, making him just loud enough for Stiles to hear before raising a finger to nudge at the tiny cock beneath him, “the penis seems to be about less than half an inch long,” running his finger on the underside of his cock, “His shaft, if there is one left,” he snorted out and felt a full body flinch from beneath him. He pushed at the cock again, this time feeling a slight hardness under his finger, this was gold. “A-are you hard Stiles,” he questioned poking at the button again, “I can barely feel anything, is everything functioning okay?” he asked again this time pressing down and holding a couple beats longer this time.

“Y-yes,” Stiles hiccuped out and Deaton glanced up at Stiles laid out, his arms thrown across his eyes and tears and snot running down his face. He grinned.

“Yes, what Stiles,” he asked again, swirling the button around with his finger, “Are you or are you not hard, it’s frankly impossible for me to tell with you being so, uh,” he huffed out another laugh, “little.”

This time the reaction was strong, a sob broke past Stiles lips and the cock that he was pressing into squirted a pathetic amount of cum, really it was such the perfect little clit.

“Ah,” he answered back non-pulsed, “I guess that answers that question,” Stiles was full on crying at this point an inconsolable mess that Deaton patiently ignored. “Based on what I can see you have somewhat of a fully functioning penis, although I highly doubt, you’ll get any use out of it now.” He stood up from his chair, snapping his gloves off one by one, before standing above the young man. He gently prodded his hands away from his face and ran his hands through the boy’s hair. He tapped his chin twice, because the boy was looking him directly in the eye.

“You do have a lot of sensitivity down there now, so at least you can bring yourself to release with relative ease- I mean who else is going to touch you now looking this,” he hushed out, still carding his hands through the boys hair. “I mean you were still a virgin when you dick was relatively normal, but now,” he clucked out his hand moving to wipe the tears from Stiles face, “It’s impossible.”

The tears came back anew, and Stiles squeezed his eyes shut, probably trying to get away from Deaton’s knowing stare. He kept up with his ministrations though, petting the young man through it, right when it seemed like Stiles had finally calmed down, he started up again.

“You said you cast this spell two days again,” He questioned, and Stiles nodded slowly in his grip, “Stiles,” he sighed again, “you should have told me…it’s to late.” And the body beneath him froze, seizing up in his arms. “The reversal spell has to be done within the first twenty-four hours,” that was an obvious lie. It became permanent after he brought the boy to completion with the tip of his finger.

The cries renewed again, this time harder and louder than the previous ones, Deaton held him through it though – knowing that this physical contact would go along way with their newly formed relationship. “I know I know,” he soothed, rubbing away the tears. “At least you have me,” he murmured out.

“W-what,” Stiles stammered out, still getting himself under control.

“Of course, your cock is microscopic,” he stressed out. “You’re going to need me to help you through this, making sure everything is clean and attended to. I’m surprised you haven’t had any issues with going to the bathroom.”

The new string of tears and flush that overcame the boy brought another grin to his face.

X


	2. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 2

It was hard to pull the answer out of Stiles, even when cradled in his arms, it took the boy ten whole minutes to describe his issues going to the bathroom and Deaton made sure to hold him through it.

This was a crucial moment in his plan.

He’d always been interested in the boy, ever since that faithful prank Jackson pulled all those years ago. Thankfully, someone had snapped a picture and the image of his tiny little cocklet quickly surfaced at the very small and private parties he often attended.

He literally purred at the sight of it, it wasn’t small enough, but it was the smallest he had seen. The fantasies had hit him hard and fast. He palmed at himself through his jeans as the members commented on what they would do to that pathetic excuse of a cock.

It wasn’t until it was revealed that boy in the picture was the sheriff’s son that Deaton quickly let his fantasies go. He wasn’t the type of man to get hooked on something attainable and he had no hope that the boy would stumble into the world of small cock humiliation. By the rumors Stiles was painfully virginal and _vanilla_. The most pleasure he would hope to attain was the look of humiliation when a girl finally let him fuck her to only be laughed away when the size of his cock was revealed.

He never thought that the boy would stumble into his own world, the one filled with magic and werewolves. It was a nice little treat, seeing the boy so close and knowing the pathetic thing that swung between his legs.

However, he didn’t really give him any thought until it was revealed that Stiles was not only magical but dreadfully _curious._

It took months really, leaving his books here and there, showing Stiles the back room of his more potent incantations, just planting the right kind of seeds for Stiles to think that all of this was his own idea.

When Deaton had noticed _that_ book gone, he’d hope Stiles would come hobbling back to him, asking him to help with the spell and admit that he was ashamed of his baby dick.

But Stiles, beautiful curious Stiles, had dared to try the spell by himself. It was more than Deaton had hoped for, hell it was the best possible scenario. Playing dumb had been easy, because even Deaton didn’t know that the spell would work out so perfectly, and that it did.

His eyes drifted back to the little button that was now Stiles cock and bit down another grin, his dick had been hard for some time now and he could feel himself close to the edge.

“It’s okay Stiles,” he assured, one hand still running through his hair and the other still cradling his face – rubbing gentle circles on his cheek. As he suspected the gentle touch had marginally calmed him down, that paired with a solid voice would make anyone in this particular situation feel like they were in capable hands.

“When was the last time you went to the bathroom,” he questioned and felt Stiles stiffen under him, then start squirming. Ah, it seems mentioning it brought back the sensation of a full bladder, excellent.

“Yesterday,” Stiles murmured out, “It-it just hurt so bad the first night and I thought, like an idiot, that maybe the spell would wear off or something, anything. And-and I didn’t want anyone finding out because it’s already-“

“Shh,” he interrupted, pressing a finger to the boy’s lips. He ignored the look of pleasant confusion Stiles sent his way; he was well aware that his actions were differing for normal, he was never soft or gentle – with any of them, but he wanted Stiles to feel cared for and special, for now anyway.

“Let me take a look,” as he gently lowered Stiles back down on the table and moved again to the center of his legs, “I’m going to need my magnifying glass for this,” he warned and there were immediate protest from above, making him grin. “I can barely see your cock as it is Stiles,” he stated as matter of fact as he could, “I need to be able to see the urethra clearly for what needs to be done.”

It took a couple of moments before he received a positive sound from Stiles to continue. “I’m going to need to stretch your urethra. Right now, the whole is to small for anything to come out of it really, I’m surprised you managed to cum from this thing,” he said tapping at the little cock again to bring his point home. “I’ll start with a sound barely thicker than a needle to get you started.”

“I don’t have much of these you see,” he carried on conversationally, “we usually save these for the smaller animals, mice and squirrels and such. Never thought I’d see a human penis small enough to use it on,” he droned out and the sound Stiles emitted sounded positively wounded.

“I-im-uh sorry,” Stiles stuttered out confused – not sure how to respond to his comment.

“Hmm,” he hummed out, taking the sound and slowly pushing it into Stiles cock slit. The fight was tight, the needle thin sound clearly stretching the whole. He pushed it in slowly, making sure Stiles felt every slide into him, then slowly worked it out. He slowly fucked the boys cocklet pulling the needle in and out at a steady pace.

Stiles reactions were subdued, obviously trying to hide the fact that he was getting off on his cock being fucked. He twitched under him, his toes curling next to his elbows, but Deaton ignored him, fucking his whole two more times before pulling out the sound. He absentmindedly pressed his finger to the top of it, plugging the hole. He didn’t want the boy to think he could piss just yet.

He pulled out the next sound, this was one about the same thickness of the led you found in mechanical pencils. He worked this sound in, the whole still tight but now a little malleable under his ministrations.

Stiles let out a startled gasp when the sound finally slipped through, spreading him even wider than before. “From what I can see,” he started again, slowly working the thicker sound in and out of the boy beneath him. “Your urethra is just to small for any piss to leak out without causing significant pain to your gentiles. Doing that much damage could lead to all kind of issues: erectile dysfunction, damage to your penis glands,” he stopped, leaving the sound plugged in the boys tiny little cocklet. “Not like it matters anyway, I doubt you’ll be getting any more use out of this pathetic excuse of a dick,” he said casually, flicking the nub with his finger.

“I have two options for you, one you come back every other day for a urethra stretch-this is a temporary _solution_ Stiles your urethra will close back up or we could insert a catheter, I have some extra smalls lying around here somewhere, but you’ll have to come back to get your bag switched and inspections to make sure there are no infections.” There were more sniffles coming from up above and Deaton slowly removed himself from between Stiles legs and back to the side of the table and taking his head in his hands.

“This is your life now Stiles,” it was time to bring this home, “and I’m willing to help with the transition while we look for another reversal spell,” and that’s what did it. Stiles looked up at him again, there were tears still in his eyes, but a little hope now lingered beneath them and Deaton almost came from the site. He couldn’t wait to build that up and tear all down again.

“Th-there’s another way,” the stutter slowly calming down, and this time Stiles stared directly up into his eyes without being prompted.

“Of course, I know other mages and emissaries across the globe, it’s a very tight network. If we put in enough time and effort, there’s sure to be a way to reverse what you did to yourself.” He placed the boys head back on the table and went back to his favorite place, between his legs. “You’re just going to have to work with me on this Stiles, it might even be a good idea to bring the pack in on-“

“No,” Stiles shouted, his abrupt movement jerking the sound that was still inside him, causing him to hiss out in…pleasure? “No, no pack, j-just you and me.”

He couldn’t have said it better himself.

X

He let the sound sit in Stiles little cock slit for another ten minutes, before he started slowly working it out of him. With what Stiles told him before, as soon as he pulled, his bladder should release immediately, he’d been holding it in for so long.

As he pulled the sound out slowly inch by inch, it seemed that Stiles was also picking up on his pending issue. “A-actually, I think I can pull it out,” he said propping himself on his elbows. “You don’t have to be here for this.”

“Nonsense,” he said, still pulling at the sound “You’re not trained Stiles you could hurt yourself down here.”

“It’s really fine, it’s almost all out anyway, I’ll just-“but Deaton didn’t give any time, instead just pulling out the rest of the sound in one fluid motion.

There was a beat where nothing happened, and Deaton thought with great disappointment that Stiles managed to hold it in, but his cock twitched and spurted a pathetic amount of cum, before he began to let loose a long string of piss.

How Deaton managed to not cum in his pants was a miracle in itself, Stiles had not only cum from having his cock slit fucked but then immediately pissed all over himself. Deaton made sure to discretely put himself in the line of fire, his piss soaking the bottom half of his coat.

The sobs were back, the humiliation must be overwhelming for Stiles, having only experienced Vanilla _thoughts_ up till this point and Deaton was determined to change that.

“Ugh,” he huffed out, making sure he sounded utterly disgusted, “you can’t even manage not to wet yourself,” he said as the stream of piss slowly sputtered to a halt, what was left slowly pooling at his feet. “I’m trying to help you and then you piss all over me,” he said showing the boy the soaked bottom half of his shirt.

“Ah, shit-no-damn it,” Stiles struggled out and Deaton clucked again at the language, he was surely going to fix that. “I’m so-so fucking sorry. I-i-i tried to tell-“

“Tell me what, Stiles,” Deaton asked, rounding on the poor boy, “that you were going to piss all over yourself, all over me?”

“I-i-i-“ Stiles stuttered, not doubt surprised at the sheer aggression that Deaton was showing him, “I-I tried to do it myself, I sai-“

“So this is somehow my fault,” he interrupted, giving the boy his best glare.

“No! No, that’s not what I mea-“

“All I’ve done is try to help you Stiles and now you’re blaming me?”

“Nonono, that’s not what I said-“

“Let me remind you, that it was you who cast this spell Stiles,” he barked out, walking out from his thighs and gripping the boy’s hair tight – a sharp contrast to his earlier ministrations. “You’re the one that gave yourself that clit you call a cock and you’re the one that couldn’t control himself and wet himself after he cumming” Stiles was nodding along furiously, probably not even gauging what was being said to him, what was being done to him. “Now, I think instead of pointing fingers, someone should be apologizing for ruining my coat.”

It took another moment, Stiles staring at the cooling wet spot on his coat, looking back at his little cock-clit and back at him again.

“Um-I’m sorry,” he mumbled out and Deaton was having none of it.

“Sorry about what? Sorry about cumming during a medical procedure, sorry about losing control and wetting yourself? What exactly are you sorry for?”

“I’m sorry for -uh – pissi-“he gripped the boys hair tighter pulling his head back, those weren’t the words he wanted to hear. “I mean, I’m sorry for wettingmyself,” he rushed out, face beat red at the words he uttered out. Deaton let it slide, he didn’t want to push the boy to much, once the adrenaline, fear, and confusion died down he would notice something off about this entire exchange, but not enough for alarm bells to be going off.

“Apology accepted,” he chirped out, switching his entire demeanor entirely and cradling the boy in his arms once again. “Now, did we make a decision on what you want to do? Stretching or catheter?”

Either was fine with him. He decided on stretching that would move his plan along much fast than the catheter, but apart of him did want to take his time ruining the boy.

“Stretching.”


	3. 3

They fall into a routine after that. Stiles visits his clinic every other day, his hole closed tight, bladder full of piss, and fresh tears with each new stretch. It must be utterly devastating, to be normal one week and completely fucked up the next, especially at the epicenter of his manhood. Deaton makes sure to dive him just a little bit deeper each session. Playing with his little cock slit with the sound over and over and always making sure Stiles wets himself after he comes.

They’ve only had ten sessions so far and it’s about time Deaton started prodding Stiles into the second stage of his plans.

Stiles creeps in at around midnight and as usual Deaton sends him to the chair to wait for a couple of hours. It’s unnecessary, obviously, but he wants Stiles to know that he's being a burden, that he’s interrupting his workflow, he doesn’t usually comment during the silence, but now is the perfect time.

“Do you think you can hold out another day,” he mused aloud, catching the boy’s attention. It’s a trap, he knows Stiles can’t withstand another twenty-four hours. He’s fresh from school, lacrosse, and a pack meeting and he’s gotten sloppy, relying on him like clockwork to help reduce the cramps of his bladder. He’s no longer holding back on how much water he’s in-taking.

“Um, I don’t think so,” Stiles drawls back and Deaton frowns, that’s another thing he doesn’t like. Stile’s stutter is gone, the humiliation is still there but dampened by the monotony of it all. But tonight, was the night he changed that.

“I’m behind on my work Stiles” he drones, keeping his eyes his paperwork- he wants to make sure the boy feels dismissed. “You’ll have to wait till tomorrow,” he says with finality motioning the boy out of his office. He’s up in a flash, leaning into his face, face desperate – he wonders how full his bladder must feel, the pressure building up in his cock.

“Deaton- “he starts but he’s having none of it.

“I can’t keep helping you _piss_ Stiles,” and Stiles steps back like he's been punched him, good. “I’m happy to help you but I’m afraid our relationship has become to, uh, parasitic.” It doesn’t take long for Stiles to figure out the meaning behind his words, it’s obvious who has the upper hand in their exchange.

“What do you want,” he forces out, anger and humiliation dripping on his tongue and Deaton knows that Stiles will refuse, will storm out of his office and make a stand, possibly even go to his pack for advice, but Deaton’s already planned for this.

“Just your mouth,” is all he says in response, reaching his hand out to touch those delicate pink lips, but Stiles jerks back like he’s been burned, amber eyes now liquid lava.

“Fuck you,” he spits out storming out his office.

X

It’s at the start of lunch period when Stiles decides he’ll ask Scott for help. It’s going to be hard, that much he knows, but Scott is his brother from another mother, his bro for life. Plus, it’s not like he’s asking Scott to help him piss, just to steal some supplies from Deaton so he can do it himself. Scott’s been his best friend since diapers, sure things had changed since the bite and Isaac, but still Scott was family. He wouldn’t laugh him away; he’d offer help the best way he knew how. Why he didn’t think of it before was beyond him.

The whole pack is already seated by the time he gets there, their heads bent down looking at a phone in Jackson’s hand. They’re laughing, well most of them, Lydia looks more disgusted than amused and Boyd per usual has his usual look but the others even Scott are clutching their sides.

“What’s up,” he says placing his tray on the table.

“S-stiles,” Scott huffs out, tugging the phone out of Jackson’s hands and passing it to him, “You got to see this,” he’s confused of all of two minutes before he looks at the phone. It’s a nude, only showing the man’s lower half, and his cock about an inch or so smaller than his _original_ size seems like a tiny bump against the weight of his balls. The horror sets in at what they’re laughing at.

“Can you believe it,” Scott questions again, “it doesn’t even look real,” he turns back to Isaac who makes so off handed comment about baby dicks and popping them like pimples but he can barely hear them, it’s like he’s under water because this dick, the one they’re all laughing at – is bigger than him.

Lydia huffs out annoyed and snatches the phone away, “Stop, it’s disgusting to look at,” handing the phone back to Jackson, “some of us are trying to eat.”

Stiles latches on that immediately. Lydia, she really thinks it’s that’s disgusting to be small.

“You sure babe,” Jackson ask swinging a beefy arm over her slim shoulder, “you wouldn’t love me if I was that small.”

“Please,” she sighs pulling out her compact mirror, “you’d do better in a circus than on my arm.”

That stings- he’d never even thought about Lydia’s reaction to his cock. He’d had fantasized that it didn’t even phase her, that his cock was normal to her and could please her even better than what hung between Jackson’s legs. He tries to shrink in on himself, absentmindedly playing with his food, pushing back the bile that started itching at the back of his throat.

“What’s wrong Stilinski,” Jackson asks, “It’s not like you to be quiet for once.” He doesn’t respond, focuses on the food and his bravado. He could fix this. He just needed to speak with Scott get some real answers and help then he could be normal again.

“Ahh I know,” Jackson started- misreading his silence, “You’re not much bigger than this, right?”

Suddenly, he’s that fifteen-year-old boy again standing half naked in the locker room, all eyes on him and tears behind his eyes. Except this time those incredulous stares, those mocking smiles were coming from his friends, his pack.

“Stop it Jackson,” Scott butts in and Stiles feels reassurance blossom within him, see he knew Scott would stick up for him, wouldn’t judge him – “that was a long time ago. He’s _grown_ since then. I bet he’s bigger than you.”

And it’s like someone splashed cold water on him. Scott, like the others, doesn’t want him to be “small,” thinks it’s laughable to have a tiny cock.

“Y-yeah,” he stutters back through a laugh. Scott shot him a beaming smile; believing he successfully covered his friends back.

“Really,” and the way Jackson says it makes Stiles think he knows. He knows that this dick is no bigger than a grape, his balls now swollen mounds against the middle of his legs.

This couldn’t be happening. Not to him. Not now.

X

It takes Stiles less than a day to come back to him. Stiff and unsteady, his bladder probably pushing painfully against him. He sends him to the chair like usual, decides he’s going to make Stiles wait three more hours before he opens his piss slit. It’s punishment after all.

It takes an hour before Stiles starts whining in his chair, rocking back and forth with a frenzied type of urgency. It’s distracting, but he holds out knowing that Stiles has another hour in him before he’ll come begging for his cock for a little bit of release.

It takes less than that. Stiles wobble over in less than thirty minutes, hands gripping his desk, knuckles white from the strain.

“Stiles,” he hums out, filling out the forms beneath him.

“P-please,” and the stutter is back, “I-I just – it’s been three days now, and I-“

“You need what,” he interrupts, starting on another form, not even glancing in the boys direction.

“I-I jus-fuck-I just really need to piss.”

“I thought we already had this conversation” finally putting down the pencil and staring the boy down. He was covered in sweat, his hair plastered to his forehead, his eyes and mouth scrunched at the sides. He was obviously suffering.

“I-I know-“

“And if I remember correctly it was _you_ who stormed out of _my_ office,” he continues slowly rising from his chair, rounding the desk, and caging the boy in between his arms. He brings his hand up and slowly runs it through the boy’s hair, his reaction is almost immediate, he leans into the touch, shoulder dropping some tension. Perfect.

“Remember what I said Stiles,” he asked bring up the other hand to caress his face, “I’m helping you with this problem, I’m behind on work, losing sleep making sure _you_ can wet yourself without any pain. I haven’t asked anything from you, but you sure are asking a lot from me.”

Stiles his mostly lost to him though, rolling his hips for some sort of his release from his bladder pain, the confusion of his gentle actions – that was so different from the aggression shown earlier was throwing him off.

“I-I’m sorry,” Stiles gasp out, gripping his wrist, “Y-you're right, I was being an unappreciative dick. I-uh-I should’ve been more-fuck-understanding.”

“Exactly,” he mutters in agreement absentmindedly swiping the tears that have started to fall down the boys face, “I mean who do you think has to clean up the messes you make?”

“I-I’ll do it,” Stiles basically shouts, eyes wide and wild, “I’ll clean up the mess, I-I’ll-“

“You’ll what Stiles,” and it doesn’t take long for realization to dawn on the boys face and another wave of tears to start gushing down his face. No doubt he’s figured out that this is his only way for release going forward.

“I-I’ll suck you off.”

“Good,” he chirps, softly kissing the corner of Stiles, “Now get on your knees.”


End file.
